In the thread on inter-party-combat (
viewtopic.php?f=29&t=66), I have talked about how my group doesn’t allow player to keep even the most private details about their characters secret from all fellow players, and how we create our characters communally, with suggestions and other input from everybody else. To this, Crow Caller reacted in the following way:
Crow Caller wrote:
That's like watching a Murder Mystery and knowing who the bad guy is from the start.
I disagree completely with the notion I suspect behind Crow Caller's statement, and I would therefore like to talk about what makes a story interesting, but not in the original thread, where this would be off-topic, but here, in this thread.
First of all, I think that Crow Caller’s analogy is flawed. While most adventures correspond in some way to murder mysteries inasfar that there is an element of exploration (i. e. “Who and what is behind the recent events?â€), this mystery is usually not provided by the fellow players, but by the referee. Players knowing the details of other player characters does therefore not detract from this mystery factor.
Games where the characters do not form a group with shared interests but do work against each other are of course the exception to this.
It is probably save to say that adventure stories of all kinds live from suspense. The protagonist faces opposition, and his struggles to overcome this opposition create the suspense. In the course of his struggles, two questions become relevant:
1) Will the protagonist overcome the opposition?
2) What does happen to the protagonist in his struggles against the opposition?
I would like to argue that the second question is demonstrably the more important one by far. Stories can and do work without answering or even addressing the first question (think of open endings), but they can not fail to address the second one. To be gripped by a story, we do not have to know if the protagonist will succeed in his struggles, but we absolutely do have to see him struggle.
I think that this is due to two reasons:
1) On a more basic level, the overcoming of opposition is the “meat†of stories. It is gripping to see a protagonist face insurmountable odds, take them on with resourcefulness and go on to face some other opposition. This kind of crisis is exciting and gripping.
2) On a more advanced level, opposition and crisis reveals character, both in real life and in fiction. How somebody meets a dilemma and deals with it is highly interesting. By watching a fictional character in a tight spot, we learn a lot about him, and, on a more abstract level, about ourselves and humanity in general. And this is what stories are all about since the most ancient of days – exploring humanity.
One need only look at such famous heroes of fantasy like Conan the Cimmerian or Elric of Melniboné. Every reader who knows the least bit about them knows that they won’t die during their travails, and that they will overcome the current opposition and succeed at least in part. Does this make the stories any less interesting? Obviously not. Readers are not gripped by the question wether Conan/Elric will succeed, and even less so if he will survive; what is interesting about these stories is how the protagonist will fare. Suspense does clearly not come from uncertainty of success.
What does this mean for role-playing?
In the most extreme, it means that it is definitely possible to have very intense and gripping stories where it is absolutely clear that the player character will not die.
This might seem strange, but I have done it and know that it is possible; I have even experienced it to make for incredibly intense gaming. Think of having Elric as your character, and having decided beforehand that your character will bring about the end of the world. Playing out his earlier exploits will be very intense, especially in view of the knowledge that all of this is for nothing because of the impending doom. The fact that this character can’t die doesn’t detract the least bit from the enjoyment.
But I won’t advocate something that extreme. Instead, I’d like to point out the advantages of players being fully in the know about each others’ characters, provided you have got mature players who don’t begrudge each other time in the limelight. If this provision is met, players can help each other create memorable scenes for each others’ characters - they can have their characters push another character’s buttons, giving this player the opportunity to bring his character’s core concerns (his secrets) to the fore. And this is what we all want from stories – protagonists addressing the issues they are passionate about and revealing themselves in the process.
This (players pushing another player character’s buttons) could conceivably also happen by chance, without the player knowing about it, but it would clearly be much rarer. With full knowledge of another player character, the player can do this intentionally, instead of stumbling around blindly in the darkness.
Do you remember Tolkien’s “The Hobbit or There And Back Again�. The riddle contest between Bilbo and Gollum? Think of the moment when Bilbo is one riddle short of being devoured by Gollum, and when he puts his hand down his trouser pocket and feels the Ring he found some time ago. Think of how he says to himself “what have I got here?†and how Gollum thinks this to be a riddle, how he subsequently suspects Bilbo of having his Precious and how hell breaks loose because of this. Now imagine Bilbo and Gollum to be player characters. If the player of Bilbo doesn’t know of the Ring’s significance to Gollum, this interesting and memorable scene would never happen. Now, if both players are aware of their respective characters drives and secrets, the player of Bilbo could easily bring the Ring into play in the way Tolkien did (or some other). This makes for a much better scene than both players being in the dark.
I do therefore advocate that, if communal story creation is your agenda, full knowledge of other players’ characters is infinitely preferable to ignorance.